


Bickering on Both Ends

by Flywolf33



Series: Angels, Demons, and Hunters [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Aziraphale is an insatiable book worm, Crowley is an overprotective bastard, These boys don't know how to get along, Unknown Monsters, seriously I made this up with no research what so ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26935381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flywolf33/pseuds/Flywolf33
Summary: Dean calls Crowley and asks for their help, and once again they seem to have bitten off more than they could chew...
Relationships: Aziraphale & Bobby, Aziraphale & Sam, Crowley/Aziraphale, crowley & dean
Series: Angels, Demons, and Hunters [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1494296
Comments: 75
Kudos: 214





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KiaraMGrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiaraMGrey/gifts), [divinecrone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/divinecrone/gifts).



> Sup folks! The writing prompt for this one was the ineffables getting involved in a Winchester case, which I realize was sort of filled in Book Binding, but here you go anyway!

Aziraphale and Crowley avoided the Winchesters for a while, but that didn’t mean they ignored their existence. Aziraphale insisted on helping them against Hell, which Crowley was totally okay with since he’d never liked that place anyway, but that meant working _with_ part of Heaven and Crowley had never liked _them_ much either. Aziraphale never brought any angels to the South Downs and Crowley never went to their meetings, so at least they still had their privacy.

He still didn’t like the idea, but of course he was wrapped around Aziraphale’s finger like the snake he was and that meant suffering through his silly plans. The things he did for love…

One day, the phone rang. Crowley took one look at the caller ID and considered ignoring it.

“What.”

“Well hello to you too,” Dean said. “What’s your schedule like this week?”

Aziraphale looked up from his book. “Is that Dean?”

Crowley nodded to him but spoke to the phone. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

There was a frustrated grown and a voice in the background. Crowley thought he caught the word “idjit.”

“We’re working on a case and we could use some supernatural help,” Dean finally ground out.

Irritation flickered through Crowley. “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend in the trench coat?”

There was a pause. “Cas is gone. You were right.”

Crowley tried to suppress his gloating smirk. He knew what it felt like to have someone he loved and trusted turn his back on him. His eyes flicked up to Aziraphale, who pointed looked away, and then said to Dean, “We don’t live at your beck and call you know. We have stuff.”

Aziraphale gave him a disapproving look.

Dean sighed. “Look, I know I was an ass. But right now there are people in danger and we can’t help them without you.”

Well if that didn’t tickle his pride. Crowley shared a long look with Aziraphale, letting Dean squirm for a minute. “We’ll be there this evening,” he finally said, and Dean sighed in relief. He gave Crowley the address and they hung up.

“Whatever could they have gotten themselves into?” Aziraphale wondered.

Crowley slouched on the sofa. “Probably the biggest hornet’s nest they could find.”

___________________________

It was another dingy motel, but at least this one had two beds and a pull-out couch. All three had been used.

“Who gets the couch?” Crowley asked the moment he walked in. The scowl on Dean’s face as he closed the door behind them was all the answer needed and Crowley grinned.

“What seems to be the matter?” Aziraphale asked.

“Best wait until Sam and Bobby get back,” Dean said, striding past them and into the small kitchen.

Crowley followed, sniffing the air. “Are you doing magic?”

Dean nodded to the table as he opened the fridge and retrieved a beer.

“Do you drink anything else?” Aziraphale said while Crowley wandered over to investigate the myriad of ingredients on the small wood table in the corner.

Dean downed half the bottle and said, “No,” as he wiped his mouth.

Aziraphale’s lips pressed together in a frown. “Birds of a feather,” he said.

Crowley looked up. “I’m not a bird,” he protested.

“But you do have feathers,” Aziraphale countered, clasping his hands behind his back.

“You’re an old married couple, I get it,” Dean said sourly.

Crowley was prepared to say something mean, but for once he decided to heed his partner’s warning glance.

The door suddenly rattled and Sam and Bobby filed in with arms full of grocery bags, which they deposited on one of the beds.

“Hey!” Sam said as soon as he saw them. “Thanks for coming.”

“Great, you’re back. Now what’s all this about? We’re busy,” Crowley said.

“Not terribly busy,” Aziraphale added unhelpfully.

Sam suddenly seemed apprehensive. Bobby excused himself to the bathroom and Crowley had the sense he was – wisely – removing himself from the line of fire. He always did seem to be the smart one of the humans.

“We need some stuff for the spell,” Dean said, drawing their attention.

Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

Dean finished his beer and pushed off the counter. “His blood,” he said, nodding to Aziraphale.

Crowley hissed and moved protectively in front of his partner, fangs already elongating. Savage words danced on the tip of his tongue.

“Not a lot,” Sam said quickly, squeezing around them with a book in hand. “Look. For the spell it says we need the blood of the Guardian of Eden and a feather from the last angel to Fall. Both of those are Aziraphale.” He offered the book to Crowley, who glanced at the page but didn’t take it.

“Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale said, exasperated. “Let them explain.”

“See how I’m not smiting them?” Crowley said without taking his eyes off the Winchesters.

Dean rolled his eyes. “We’re not gonna hurt either of you,” he said. “The spell only calls for a drop.”

“It’s really no harm, dear,” Aziraphale hedged, placing a hand on Crowley’s arm.

“What’s the spell for anyway?” Crowley demanded, still not moving.

The brothers shared a look. “We don’t actually know what it’s called,” Sam admitted. “Whatever it is, it’s old. Maybe as old as you two. This was the only record we could find, and it’s about the same age as the Dead Sea Scrolls. It took me a few days to get it translated.”

Aziraphale pushed around Crowley at this point, ignoring his indignant stuttering, and took the book. He cradled it as if it were a newborn child, gazing at with raw adoration. “It’s original,” he cooed. “You should be wearing gloves!” he suddenly scolded, gently placing the book on the counter, summoning a pair of white gloves with a wave, and leaning over the book to read.

“Angel,” Crowley groaned.

Bobby reappeared, apparently sensing the danger had passed. “It took a lot of favors to get hold of that,” he said, eyeing Aziraphale warily.

“You’ve translated this wrong,” the former angel finally said. “It _does_ ask for the feather of the last Fallen angel, but the blood should come from the _Serpent_ of Eden, not the Guardian. The page is smudged.”

All eyes turned to Crowley, who folded his arms and glowered.

“Here,” Aziraphale said, unfolding his wings and carelessly plucking a feather from one with a wince. He offered it to Sam, who reverently accepted it.

Crowley scowled harder.

“Crowley, dear,” Aziraphale said.

“Fine!” he snapped, “but this is ridiculous.”

“Um, it might be best if you were in your snake form,” Sam said hesitantly. “Some spells are picky.”

“Serpent,” Crowley mumbled, flicking his snake tongue at the younger Winchester and melting into this other form. He slithered to Aziraphale, who offered his arm and allowed the serpent to climb to his shoulders. The rest of his body wound loosely around the former angel. Crowley stared at the hunters, who all looked extremely uncomfortable.

Sam picked up a syringe from the table and inched closer. “This okay?”

Crowley just eyed him and flicked his tongue again.

Sam took this as a yes and carefully selected a spot. “I don’t know where your veins are, so I’m guessing.”

Crowley shifted so he could watch.

“Careful not to jab too deep,” Aziraphale warned. “He _does_ bite.”

He seemed to realize what he’d said and turned a brilliant shade of red.

“Gross,” Dean muttered.

“Crowley swung his head around to look at him. “You’re jussst jealousss,” he said, “cuz you haven’t been laid by your angel yet.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gently admonished, both in embarrassment and a gentle scolding.

Dean glared at him.

Sam chose this moment to poke under a scale and Crowley hissed quietly, turning his attention back to the hunter with the pointy object. Luckily Sam had somehow managed to hit a vein on his first try and the syringe quickly filled.

“Thanks,” he said, stepping back to give Crowley room to slither to the floor.

“Don’t wasssste it,” Crowley said as he changed back into his human shape. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers.

“That’s freaky,” Dean said.

Sam started mixing things on the table.

“Is that all?” Aziraphale asked, surprised, drawing the book away from Sam’s work.

“Yep,” Dean said. “Thanks for coming.”

“Oh no,” Crowley said, “we didn’t come all this way just to be your private supernatural grocery shop. We’re staying.”

Sam looked up. “You’re going to help us with a case?”

“No way,” Dean snapped. “We can handle this on our own.”

Bobby cuffed Dean upside the head, causing the man to squeak in surprise. “You don’t turn down help from the oldest things on the planet, ya idjit,” the older hunter growled.

“Last time they helped, you and Sam almost got killed!”

“And I saved your life,” Crowley added.

Dean made to protest more but was quelled by twin glares from his brother and Bobby.

“I’m going to get more beer,” Dean growled, stomping toward the door. After a quick glance at the bags on the bed he added, “and some pie.”

Sam grinned at them. “Welcome to Team Free Will.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Crowley are stubborn and Crowley is very graceful in the face of danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to wait to post this on Friday, but plans have changed and I have time now, so here you go, a bit early! 
> 
> If you like my writing and have the time, I would appreciate it if you checked out my other Good Omens series, [Recompense](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969081). I just started uploading the second story, Torment. You don't need to read Recompense to understand the events in Torment. Be warned there is a lot of angst and hurt, but it *does* have a happy ending and comfort. Just be sure to read the tags. 
> 
> All that said, enjoy the chapter!

Bobby and Sam did their best to explain what they were facing, but even Aziraphale and Crowley were unsure of what it might be. All they knew was what the book told them: it was nameless, old, and liked eating anything it could get its teeth into – especially children, which it hunted. This last fact alone was enough to get Crowley’s blood boiling.

When Dean returned, he held up a bag of fast food and everyone sat down to eat. Aziraphale cringed at the sight of the dilapidated hamburgers and politely turned them down. Crowley snickered and earned an embarrassed glare from his partner.

“Where do you two plan on sleeping?” Dean asked as the trio began preparations to bed down for the night. “The motel is booked out.”

“I don’t sleep,” Aziraphale said the same moment Crowley said, “The ceiling.”

“ _Hell_ no,” Dean said firmly. “Cas’s habit of creeping on me is bad enough; I don’t need anyone on the _ceiling_.”

Sam just went pale and excused himself to the bathroom.

“Did I say something?” Aziraphale asked quietly, watching the hunter go with confusion.

“He found his girlfriend dead on the ceiling. The same thing happened to our mom when he was a baby,” Dean said brusquely, “so people on ceilings and demons with yellow eyes are pretty much a no-go for us. Demons with yellow eyes on a ceiling is probably straight from his nightmares.”

Crowley had always been a little self-conscious about his eyes – hence the glasses – but he always hid it well. He’d known a bit of the Winchester’s history and that his eyes bothered him thanks to his talk with Dean on their last hunt, but now he just wanted to go home.

“Not my fault, not involved,” he mumbled, looking away. Aziraphale rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Will you two idjits stop bickering and just be friends already?” Bobby snapped.

Dean started to protest. “But he’s-”

“I get it,” Crowley said waspishly. “I’m – or was – a demon, and you really ought to have killed me when you had the chance. You don’t like me. Fine. But you ssstill owe me a favor, and _I won’t forget it._ ” He spun around and headed for the door. “Come on, angel.”

Aziraphale reluctantly followed, offering an apologetic smile to the hunters as they left. “Really, my dear, must you be so dramatic?”

Crowley shoved his hands in his too-tight pockets and sulked as they walked down the dark street.

“Why do you insist on pretending you don’t care what they think?” Aziraphale pressed, hooking his left arm through Crowley’s right.

“I’m not pretending.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Then what was that tantrum about?”

“I don’t throw tantrums.”

“Of course you don’t. You certainly held it together during Armageddon.”

Crowley glared. “That was different. It was _you_.”

Aziraphale stopped, forcing Crowley to do the same and look at him. He gently removed the former demon’s glasses and held his gaze. “I’m always thought you had the prettiest eyes,” he murmured.

Crowley swallowed and looked away, skin prickling.

“You’re not going to get in trouble for having friends anymore,” Aziraphale continued.

“He’s just so _annoying_ ,” Crowley finally said. “He thinks he’s better than everyone else and I just want to knock him down a few pegs.”

“I think he puts up a front, much like you.”

Crowley’s eyes snapped back to his partner as he sputtered. “I’m not…”

A flicker of movement in an alleyway behind Aziraphale caught his attention. Out of the shadows rose a hulking, furry creature with beady red eyes and slavering jaws. White fangs glinted in the dim light, wicked claws tipping each finger-like appendage. It resembled a werewolf from classic movies.

Crowley’s eyes widened even as a low growl rumbled from the beast and Aziraphale began to turn.

“Angel, _run!”_ Crowley shrieked, shoving Aziraphale back toward the motel as the thing lunged. He did as he was told without hesitating, Crowley on his heels. In all his grace, Crowley tripped on a piece of raised sidewalk and sprawled across the ground with a curse. He twisted around, scrambling back from the monster as it jumped for him again. He raised an arm to cover his face.

The monster was suddenly batted out of the air and flung across the street. A strong hand wrapped around Crowley’s bicep and hauled him to his feet, dragging him along.

“Angel let go!” he said, struggling to keep his feet under him.

They burst back into the Winchesters’ room and slammed the door behind them. The hunters leapt to their feet, each with a gun in hand.

“What the hell?” Dean exclaimed.

Crowley stared at the object in Aziraphale’s other hand. “You hit it with a _storm drain gate_?”

“It was the first thing I saw!”

“You’re bleeding,” Sam said, and Crowley looked down to find that he was, in fact, bleeding. Three long gashes stretched across his left forearm.

“Ow,” he said.

“What the hell happened?” Dean demanded while Sam went for the first aid kit.

Aziraphale peeked through the curtain. “I believe we just met your monster,” he murmured, “and it’s still outside.”

Dean and Bobby hurried to look.

Crowley dropped on the foot of one of the beds and tugged at his sleeve. “Damnit, I liked this jacket,” he mumbled.

Sam returned with the kit and sat next to him. Crowley glowered but didn’t resist as the hunter tugged the jacket off and rolled up his shirt sleeve to get a better look.

“You’re a lot more expressive without your glasses,” Sam noted.

“Angel, where are my glasses?” Crowley’s voice _definitely_ did not crack, no matter what anyone else might say.

Aziraphale stepped back from the window, looking abashed. “I… dropped them.”

“That was my last pair!”

“That thing was going to kill you; I panicked!”

Sam dabbed at one of the gashes with an alcohol swab and Crowley hissed at him.

“Don’t be a baby,” the hunter said, then froze and looked up at Crowley. “Sorry… I’m used to him.” He jerked a thumb at Dean, who was now digging through a duffle bag.

Crowley chose to let it slide, and Sam went back to cleaning the wound.

“Is that the only place it got you?” Aziraphale fretted, looking him over.

“I think I scraped a knee when I tripped, but I didn’t even notice _this_ , so who knows.”

Dean snorted. “You tripped? Good going, Princess.”

Crowley gave Aziraphale a pointed look and ignored Dean like a mature adult. He was too tired to deal with it right now anyway.

“What’s it doing?” Sam asked, poking through the kit and coming up with a needle and thread. Crowley grimaced.

“Just pacing up and down the street,” Bobby said, peeking through the curtain again. “It looks like it’s waiting.”

Crowley blinked at Aziraphale, who was growing blurry.

“Crowley? What’s wrong?” Aziraphale said in alarm.

“Nothing… Jussst tired… isssss all.”

“I didn’t think he lost _that_ much blood,” Sam said, puzzled.

Crowley swayed and flopped back on the bed, going limp.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale dropped to the side of the bed and tried to get Crowley to focus.

The former demon squinted at him. “Sssssomething’s wrong. I can’t… move.”

“What the hell!” Dean shouted again.

“It as to be some kind of paralytic,” Sam said, frantically going through his kit.

“Makes sense,” Bobby grunted. “Anything with half a mind’s gonna run from that thing; if one scratch can paralyze, then it won’t have to worry about losing prey.”

“Shit shit _shit_!” Sam just dumped the bag out and began tossing things aside.

Crowley sighed deeply. “I’m sssure it’ll wear off…”

There was a growl at the door and a loud sniffing sound.

“It found us,” Bobby said.

“Give that here,” Aziraphale snatched a patch of gauze from Sam and bound it around Crowley’s arm before effortlessly lifting him in a bridal carry.

“Hey,” Crowley said thickly.

Aziraphale took him to the bathroom, where he laid him in the bathtub.

“Hey!” Crowley tried again.

“Stay here,” Aziraphale commanded as though Crowley had a choice. He paused in the doorway and looked back at the man-shaped being lying prone in the tub. “I love you,” he said, then closed the door and left Crowley in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter, please drop a comment! Comments sustain me. 
> 
> If you _didn't_ like this chapter, please leave me some constructive criticism so I can improve! 
> 
> Please come visit me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/flywolfwriting) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/heather_wolffe)!
> 
> I just posted a fic writing ask thing on Tumblr as well, so if you have any questions about any of my fics, please head over and shoot me an ask!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the end of this one! Thanks for reading! Don't worry, there's more to come :)
> 
> If you like my writing and have the time, I would appreciate it if you checked out my other Good Omens series, [Recompense](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969081). I just started uploading the second story, Torment. You don't need to read Recompense to understand the events in Torment. Be warned there is a lot of angst and hurt, but it *does* have a happy ending and comfort. Just be sure to read the tags.

Sam watched Aziraphale close the bathroom door on Crowley, whose weak protests were still audible. The former angel lifted the couch – _the entire couch, as if it weighed nothing_ – and placed it in front of the door.

There was a thud from outside and the splintering of wood.

“I do believe now would be a good time to get the spell ready,” Aziraphale said primly.

“Right.” Sam scrambled for the kitchen as Dean and Bobby backed away from the door, guns ready.

Sam lit a match and dropped it on the mixture of ingredients. Immediately the scent of blood wafted from it. The scrabbling at the door intensified, now accompanied by a deep growling. As one clawed appendage broke through the door, Sam prayed the spell worked. He’d never seen anything to make a specific creature implode before, and it didn’t have any way to direct it, so he really, _really_ hoped it didn’t end up imploding one of the hunters instead.

“Sammy!” Dean called.

“Almost!” Sam quickly grabbed the feather and began muttering the chant he’d memorized earlier that day when he’d been bored.

The creature burst through the door with a shower of splinters, snarling. It toppled over the couch, the pitch of it’s growl sharpening for a moment. Dean started shooting.

The monster charged forward, swiping at the hunter, who threw himself out of the way and took Bobby down will him. They landed behind the bed with twin grunts. Bobby started cursing.

Sam spoke faster as the creature set its eyes on him. Crackling was building in his ears.

A shout from the bathroom caused the creature to stop and swing around, sniffing the air. Aziraphale stood in front of the bathroom door, radiating power. The creature batted him aside as if he were a child’s toy and began clawing at the door.

Aziraphale stumbled to his feet, cradling his bloody side, and shouting as he held up his other hand. Sam tried to make out what he said but couldn’t hear through the whistling in his ears. He was almost done reciting the spell…

As the monster reared back to knock in the bathroom door, something crackled around Aziraphale and Sam smelled sulfur. Flames roared from the former angel’s outstretched hand, which seemed to surprise him as much as everyone else. Sam almost stumbled over his words, but thankfully managed to get them out without mistake. He couldn’t afford to mess up.

The monster howled as its fur caught fire. It whirled on Aziraphale and leapt towards him, jaws bared.

Sam shouted the last words and dropped the feather into the bowl, willing the spell to strike at the creature and not anyone else. There was a loud bang and a flash of orange light that streaked from the bowl to the airborn monster. It was knocked sideways into the wall and started shrieking as it began to fold in on itself, like a black hole had suddenly opened inside of it. With a pop and a shower of sparks, it was gone, and with it the fire.

“What the hell,” Dean said for the third time that night.

Aziraphale collapsed in a heap.

\-------------------

The Winchesters quickly wrapped Aziraphale’s side and somehow managed to get him, Crowley, and all their gear into the impala before they heard sirens. Dean skidded out of the parking lot with Bobby following close behind in his own car. They were around the corner and headed for the interstate before the cops arrived. It was no surprise they’d been called with the motel as crowded as it was and the noise they’d made.

Sam resisted the urge to eavesdrop as Aziraphale and Crowley whispered in the back. Dean’s knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel the entire drive home. Over the two hour trip both their passengers had fallen asleep and were leaned against each other.

“Hey,” Sam said softly, reaching back to wiggle Aziraphale’s knee. The former angel groggily opened his eyes. “We’re here.”

Aziraphale slowly blinked at him. “Still… can’t move,” he said.

“Great,” Dean muttered, and got out of the car with a huff.

Bobby pulled in behind them just as Sam was lifting Crowley out of the back seat. He was surprisingly light.

“Thiss’s embarrassing,” he grumbled.

“You didn’t complain when Aziraphale carried you,” Sam pointed out tiredly, following Bobby and waiting for him to unlock the door.

“He’sss my husssband.”

“Fair.” Sam set Crowley upright on the couch and went back to help Dean with Aziraphale, who was heavier.

By the time they got the former angel through the door, Bobby had found his medical kit and was getting to work stitching the gashes in Crowley’s arm.

“I may be paralyzed, but I can still feel that,” Crowley snapped.

“Quit yer complainin,” Bobby said.

“You have no respect for things stronger than you.”

Dean grunted as they lowered Aziraphale beside his partner. “As a rule, no.”

Crowley resumed his grumbling and Aziraphale sighed.

Sam started fixing up Aziraphale’s wound, which was four deep gouges across his ribs. He grimaced when Sam swiped them with alcohol, but otherwise remained silent.

“I do hope this wears off soon,” Aziraphale said once Sam had finished and wrapped his torso in fresh gauze.

Dean paced in from the kitchen with a beer in hand and eyed Aziraphale. “Since when can you shoot hellfire from your hands?”

“You did _what_?” Crowley managed to roll his head to face his partner.

Aziraphale blushed. “I don’t know. I was just so angry and then… it happened. I didn’t know I could do that.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said firmly, his voice growling steadier, “don’t ever lock me in the bathroom again.”

Aziraphale _hmphed_ and addressed Bobby. “Sorry to impose, but might we stay here tonight?”

The elder hunter shrugged. “Don’t see why not.”

“How kind,” Aziraphale sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he drifted back to sleep.

“I’m going to bed too. We can unpack in the morning,” Dean said, tossing his empty beer bottle into the garbage and tramping up the stairs. Bobby was close behind.

Sam hesitated. “Crowley?”

One golden eye cracked open.

“Thank you for coming… and sorry about Dean. Dad was pretty hard on him growing up, and now he doesn’t really know how to act. Trust doesn’t come easy, especially after Cas, and he’s mad that you were right. Please be patient with him; he’ll come around.”

Crowley regarded him silently for a moment before closing his eye and taking a deep breath. “I’ll think about it.”

Sam accepted this as his only answer and slipped upstairs to get some sleep. When the hunters finally woke late the next day, Aziraphale and Crowley were gone.

“Good riddance,” Dean mumbled as he went for the fridge.

“Bastard took my book,” Bobby growled as he dug through his bag. He came up with a note from Aziraphale, promising to bring him to look through his library soon. Bobby’s complaining subsided, but he still glowered.

“I’m never calling them on a case again,” Dean vowed.

Somehow, Sam knew otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter, please drop a comment! Comments give me life. 
> 
> If you _didn't_ like this chapter, please leave me some constructive criticism so I can improve! 
> 
> Please come visit me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/flywolfwriting) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/heather_wolffe)!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this chapter, please drop a comment! Comments sustain me. 
> 
> If you _didn't_ like this chapter, please leave me some constructive criticism so I can improve! 
> 
> Please come visit me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/flywolfwriting) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/heather_wolffe)!


End file.
